You flush a fish down a toilet and look down to
  See your second hand is dead still.
  You think them somehow connected but you can't be
  Sure and it's just as well.
    What to do next when the shit piles up?
  You can't decide. You go outside.
  Stand in the moonlight drinking coffee from a paper cup.
    You'd almost swear you hear voices, but you know it's
  Nothing but a noisey, guilty conscience.
  You hear monotonous noises. It's that time of night
  Its so predictable.
    Oh what a feeling to listen to your blood.
  The way it feels when it congeals,
  Like someone sucked you dry and pumped you full of rocks and mud.
    Close your eyes.
  No traffic, in or out.
  Tired eyes
  No traffic, in or out
    You won't decide anything tonight. No need to
  Rush things, they'll keep until tomorrow.
  Just make a fresh pot of coffee and stay up
  All night and get nothing done.
    Don't you hate preference? I know you hate choice
  Just hang your limbs out in the wind
  And clear your throat because you don't know when you'll need your
  Voice
    You hope it won't be long before you're back in
  The action like a moth around a light bulb, but
  Who gets to say when the switch flips and the
  Light goes off and you fly away.
    You could be standing and watching city lights
  But where you'll be is where you'll be
  And what you do is up to you. Stand still you've got the right
    Close your eyes
  No traffic, in or out
  Tired eyes
  No traffic, in or out
    I think I see the East, I think I see the East
  And as I face the East, I swear I taste the East
  I've got to go back East
  Where there's no traffic, in or out.